New in Town
by feeltheRUSH
Summary: Crossing my fingers for Batgirl's appearance in Young Justice. A mysterious vigilante is flitting around Gotham and Robin investigates. Rush's version.
1. Chapter 1

_So, I've heard so many conflicting reports over whether or not Batgirl is going to be in Young Justice. I, personally, would combust into happy tears if she showed up. Because I'm biased. Over at Twitter and Young Justice RPG, my Pixie has a Babs and he's happy as a clam. I like the dynamic between the two. Oh man. I just love it love it love it. Cross your fingers for Babsie._

_This fic is my own interpretation of how these two would meet. I've got this tale panned out to be about four chapters long, with plenty of action. Hopefully these chapters will be short enough for me to easily update this fic, but long enough to keep my lovely audience entertained. Enjoy the ride, my readers._

_Young Justice is owned by DC and CartoonNetwork._

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><p><strong>New in Town<strong>

Robin's feet pattered quietly across the edge of the cement ledging in Cathedral Square. He ran parallel to the sidewalk, masked eyes tracking the movements of some seedy man on the street below. Even from this elevated height, the Boy Wonder could hear ragged panting from his target. Looked like the bearded man needed to stop stuffing his face full of Krispy Kremes before trying to outrun his slim opponent. Cackling, Robin launched himself off the hard edge of the rooftop, propelling him into space. Tucking into a flip, the thirteen year old plummeted down to street-level, wind streaking through his dark hair, firing a grapple cable in order to swoop straight into the man's back. The man ate pavement with a graceless flail and a pained grunt. Robin landed with his feet firmly planted along the man's spine, digging his heel between his shoulder blades, the dirty fabric of the windbreaker crinkling around his foot.

"So, you really thought you'd get away with stealing in _my_ city," the Boy Wonder challenged. He was cocky. Gotham was technically _Batman's_ city, but Robin took liberties with the low life. It intimidated them and it made them think twice about taking on the masked thirteen year old. The ebony-haired boy leaned down, snatching one of the man's wrists, wrenching it backward, unbuckling a set of handcuffs from his belt. Robin secured one hand. The man's other hand was tucked beneath his chest. The stolen purse had flown a few feet away, resting against a fire hydrant, strap looping on the sidewalk.

Robin pulled away some, blinking at the back of the man's head, surprised.

The man he had floored was laughing. It started as a low chuckle. A small whuffing that made the man's jacket vibrate with suppressed laughing. Robin got over his surprise and categorized the man as insane and moved on to the objective: securing the criminal for the authorities. Tugging at the man's pinned arm, the vigilante's brow furrowed. A prickle of uncertainty fluttered in Robin's chest. The criminal was so anxious to get away from the Boy Wonder, now... he was just laughing, not even attempting to get away. It didn't feel _right_.

Turning his head so he could leer at the dark-haired boy standing over him, the man bared his teeth in a wide grin. "No, one better. I'll get away with _murder._" Squirming, the man raised his chest from the ground, freeing him arm. Robin's lensed eyes widened, stark against his black mask, catching sight of a stamped curved glint of dark green metal.

Clenched in the criminal's upraised hand was a grenade.

The pin was gone.

Dropping the man, dropping the handcuffs, Robin spun. The man laughed. Robin ran, reaching out for the safety of an alley. Peels of laughter thundered in his ears.

"_HAHAHA_-"

Heat exploded behind him, followed by a dull roar in his ears. His feet lifted off the ground, and he pitched forward. His shoulder ended up colliding painfully with the cement. His vision doubled, blurred, pulsing with dim white lights. Groaning, Robin felt the intense heat pass over him, his ears filling with an overpowering ringing. The thirteen year old shied away, curling his spine, tucking his chin to his chest, trying to shield his head with his raised arms. The smell of burnt hair filled his nostrils, making him crinkle his nose, despite the severity of the situation.

Slowly, the heat cooled around him, leaving the smoldering aroma of charred flesh lingering through the air. Coughing, Robin hoisted himself up onto his elbows, rotating his shoulders stiffly. Black rings of soot lined the explosion site, wisps of translucent gray wafting upward and dissipating into the cold night air. In the center of the center, a mangled corpse lay sprawled, meat cooking and sizzling, face burned beyond recognition. Gingerly, he raised himself to his feet, round eyes unable to tear themselves away from the corpse. More than that, the young hero is fixated on the implications of the past two minutes.

It was like the man was wolf in sheep's clothing; a suicide bomber guised as a simple purse-snatcher. Harmless at first glance, but oh so dangerous once you realized the little details. The man's lack of resistance to capture. The laugh. The glint in his steely eyes. Aside from the obvious motive of murdering both himself and the Boy Wonder, Robin couldn't help but feel that there wasn't a deeper meaning behind this... _dis_turbing encounter. It wasn't everyday that some random thief turned into a grenade-wielding safety hazard.

Clutching at his ribs, massaging it absently, Robin drew closer, covering his nose with his forearm. With careful steps, to avoid disturbing the crime scene, Batman's protegee began circling the crisped remains of the man. The man's face had been smelted beyond recognition. Already the body had stiffened in place, legs twisted outward in awkward angles, spine bent painfully into an acute angle of pain, hands melted together. The man must've been determined to clutch onto the bombastic grenade even through death.

A low pulsating tone alerted- one Robin felt hum through his skin rather than heard over the repetitive buzz in his ears- him to an incoming comm call. Knowing any vocal communication would be lost because of his poor hearing, Robin stepped away from the crime scene, bringing up his holographic wrist console. With a few well guided commands, he had programmed the miniature computer to transmit the words spoken through the comm to write themselves on the projected screen.

_Robin, _the signal was positively identified as Batman's.

_YES?_

_...Why are you shouting?_

Flushing, Robin realized without his hearing, he wasn't able to modulate his volume. Clearing his throat, he tried again, trying to gauge his volume without being able to hear himself. _Sorry, things got a bit... explosive down here._

_Understood. Good work,_ Batman replied. Since the Dark Knight hadn't commentated on his volume, Robin assumed he was speaking regularly- or something close to 'regularly'- again.

Crinkling his brows, Robin thought hard for a moment. While the Boy Wonder adored hearing a "good work" from Batman- or any compliment regarding his work, really- he wanted to know what was meant behind it. Like... was it a "Good work, you didn't get blown up" type deal or was it more of a... "Good work, but don't ever do it again" thing? Figuring that he had nothing to lose from asking his mentor precisely he meant- and truthfully thirsting for a blow by blow dissection of what he did right- the thirteen year old posed, _Aster as usual, I suppose. What'd I do again?_

There was a pause on the typing onscreen. Batman had taken a long pause. In his head, Robin could almost hear the Caped Crusader exhale slowly, like he did whenever his ward utilized one of his "New English" words: aster, turbing, whelming, concerting... etc etc. The thought split the Boy Wonder's mouth into a crooked smirk. While he waited for the Batman to address him again, he gave himself a pat on the back.

_Stopping the bank robbery on 52nd Street. Those men were members of the "Cult of the Firefly." A new criminal organization headed by a man named Garfield Lynns. They're not a priority. Yet. Hopefully your efforts have disheartened them, _even through text, Robin could imagine Batman's slow, measured tone. It was comforting. But that was the only thing comforting about this new kernel of information. That night, Robin had been no where near on Fifty-Second Street. He'd been sticking to Cathedral Square, on a tip from Lucius Fox. Batman probably hadn't bothered to check his ward's location that night, faithfully believing in Robin's capabilities. Any other day, Robin would've lifted his chin, proud to have earned his mentor's trust. But tonight, something was definitely _dis_turbing.

_Haha, yeah, I sure kicked their can, _Robin replied, and he was sure (if he could hear properly, that is) that he sounded fake. Sending a notification to the police about the bomb site, the thirteen year old added hurriedly, _but there's lots of clean up to do. Gotta go!_ And without waiting for any more possibly damning inquires the Batman might make, he ended the comm stream.

Swiveling around on the spot, he cast his gaze toward 52nd Street. Absently rubbing his deafened ear, his eyes narrowed. Preparing himself to take off through alleyways and up fire escapes, the boy muttered, "Alright mystery vigilante, what're you doing on my turf?"

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><p><em>Alright! So Robin's a little disconcerted over this new kid nudging in on his city. I'm mixing in my limited knowledge of The Batman-verse Firefly into future chapters and just completely bullcrapping the rest. Forgive me ahead of time for any discreprencies I make.<em>

_I like to think that after four years of mentoring Robin, Batman's gotten to a point where he doesn't _always_ monitor where Robin is. Tonight was a lucky break so Bird Boy gets to investigate the mystery of Cult of the Firefly and their mystery assailant without the guidance of Batman._

_Stay tuned, readers, we'll be meeting our [notso] mysterious crimefighter next chapter!_

_Reviews are so welcomed that I've made my review box into a luxury bed-n-breakfast. So please, drop off your reviews and I'll cherish them forever.__ Hurrr._


	2. Chapter 2

_DUDE. GUYS. YOUNG JUSTICE YESTERDAY. HOMEFRONT. WHOA. WHOA WHOA WHOA. Intense, gorgeous action and a some real lovely character development. I love everything and nothing hurts._

_I'm working on Shoot Straight for the Heart, I promise. I just had muse for this baby tonight and ended up writing this whole stinking chapter. I'm kinda proud._

_Young Justice and all it's beautiful people belong to DC and Cartoon Network._

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><p><strong>New in Town<strong>

Standing on the edge of a rooftop, Robin gazed down at said bank on 52nd Street. It had **GOTHAM NATIONAL BANK** carved from gray stone- granite?- over the doorway. Clearly, it was a higher class bank, though nothing like the posh marble establishment Bruce Wayne desposited his pay check into. Police cars, their lights flashing red and blue, casting their iridescent light up and down the whole street, were parked in a semi-circle. A squad of firemen were rolling up a long hose for storage in their red firetruck.

Pulling a batarang from his utility belt, the thirteen year old took a split second to aim, then whipped his arm forward. Even from his elevated position, he could still hear the _chink!_ of his batarang embedding itself harmlessly into the asphalt below. Robin knelt on the roof parapet, using one hand to balance himself, with the other touched his comm.

The conversation sounded muted and strange to his readjusting ears, but at least he could _hear_ now. Behind his black mask, the vigilante's brows came together.

_"So who done it?"_

_"Dunno. It _looked_ like the Bat, but too small y'know?"_

_"And since when does the Dark Knight wear boots and a dress?"_

Releasing the comm channel, Robin straightened up, mind whirling. There had been instances in Batman's career where a couple inexperienced copycats cropped up and tried to aid the Caped Crusader in cleaning up Gotham. Yet Batman had been clear in his instructions. Though the copycats had good intentions, they were a danger to both themselves and whatever operation they stumbled upon. Usually these guys were outfitted in hockey pants and crudely carved mask, not boots and a dress, but they _all _had to be apprehended for their own safety.

Robin's mystery vigilante might've stopped a gang of angry cultists, but the fact remained. He had to bring _her_ down.

A flash of movement caught his eye. A brief gleam of shined latex. Robin might've dismissed it if it hadn't originated from the rooftop of the bank. Against the darkness of the Gotham night, it was hard to see, but he could _just_ make out a tall, willowy silhouette. Grapple gun in hand, he flew over the street below, over the blissfully unaware cops, who would've seen the brief flash of yellow from Robin's cape, had they just looked up. Landing on the top of the bank, Robin reholstered his grappling gun, tucking into a graceful roll and ending in tensed crouch, scanning for his enemy, feeling the adrenaline starting to pump through his veins.

He was alone.

Snorting- a frustrated and dismissive sound at the same time- Robin left his fighting stance and squinted around the rooftop. A ventilation cover was displaced, propped against its counterpart, glinting in the offcast of a streetlight below. Bringing out a small flashlight, Robin scouted around the ventilation shaft, careful not to step too hastily and crush some miniscule clue by accident.

Aside from the open vent, there was nothing worth note on the rooftop. Pocketing the flashlight, he moved swiftly to the opposite edge of the roof, easily clamboring up onto the parapet. Below him was a back alley. Cleaner than the ones he was used to seeing while busting up drug deals and underhanded muggings, but he could still smell the faint stench of garbage wafting up to his lofty height. His mystery vigilante didn't exit the rooftop from the front or left side of the building, leaving this drop off, or to the right, a tall office building. A glance told him his target wasn't scaling the office building, so that left the alley way.

Still, Robin wasn't sold that his mystery vigilante would be able to survive a fall like that, even with the proper tuck and roll at its finish.

_"Ugh, shoot!"_

His ears pricked at the small, breathless exclamation, already leaping forward across the gap, firing a line to propell him the last leg of his jump. As he landed, he noticed a tiny detail. In the edge of this rooftop, right beside the barbed hook of his grapple was the distinct teethmarks of another grapple hook. Three vertical lines facing inward with serrated edges were bit into the cement. Giving a displeased frown at the technology his adversary seemed to have, Robin sprinted forward, crossing the rooftop to poke his head over the side.

Flying down the steps of a fire escape was a girl. Red hair spilled from beneath her cowl, two distinct prongs rising from either side of her helm, and a satiny cape fluttered behind her as she descended.

"Not so fast," Robin challenged, more to himself than to her, already freeing his grapple gun from his belt.

The girl's head snapped up, and she froze, on the bottom platform of the fire escape. Instead of eyes, two white lenses stared up at him, wide with surprise. Pink lips formed a soft 'o' to further illustrate her shock.

Ignoring the somewhat smug feeling rising in his chest, Robin swung over the edge of the roof onto the topmost level of the fire escape.

That seemed to stir the mystery vigilante from her daze, and darted forward, fumbling with something on her waist. Robin could tell a second later, as her cape was pushed irritably away, that it was a belt. A utility belt, a cowl, _and_ Bat ears? She was the best impersonator he had ever seen. Except for the being a girl and a ginger part.

Robin was vaulting himself over the guardrail when an explosion of smoke burst from the bottom of the alleyway. He dropped into the cloud, covering his nose and mouth with a forearm, glaring through the dense purplish smog that obscured his target. It was again his ears that were his saving grace. A small shift of an alumminum can tipped him off to the vigilante's flight path and he took off after her without a moment's heisitation. He emerged from the smoke onto an empty street.

For a moment, Robin merely fumed, head switching back and forth, glaring up and down the street, intent on reestablishing the chase.

A blinking light caught his attention, down at the corner a few dozen feet away. His initial excitement was quickly quashed beneath disappointment. The light alternated between red and blue, and soon afterword a cop car rounded the corner. Robin could make out the Police Commissioner's signature moustache and the sheen of his thick-rimmed glasses even from this far away. The boy raised a hand as the vehicle passed, a gesture returned by Jim Gordon, a kind of awed, troubled look on the man's face. The Boy Wonder was used to it. He was thirteen- had been nine- and he was fighting against some of the nastiest supervillains out there. People usually didn't know how to treat him on contact unless they were fangirls.

As the cruiser came level with him, Robin caught sight of Gordon's passenger. It was a girl. She had shiny red hair and an oddly thick, long jacket wrapped around her. She was sulkily looking at the dashboard in front of her, not bothering to look up at the Boy Wonder.

His white lenses widened with shock and recognition.

_Barbara?_

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><p><em>Alright! How's that for a chapter, eh?<em>

_Next chapter promises a lot of action, and I'm pretty sure we'll be following Barbara as she forges her first mission as _Batgirl. _Robin has no plans on telling Batman, but just how long d'y'think you can hide something like this from the World's Greatest Detective?_

_Reviews are so very welcome._


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